


Follow You, Follow Me

by Tsaiko



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Canonical Character Death, Durincest, Dwarf Culture & Customs, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3826882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsaiko/pseuds/Tsaiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dead, but now awake. Kili had been granted a second life, a gift from Mahal given to Durin the Deathless and passed down the line. Thorin had explained that because they were descended directly from Durin, that there was a chance any of them could have a second life. Durin had been the first to rise again after death. His descendants could as well, though not all of them did so. </p><p>The gift was not without drawbacks and conditions, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow You, Follow Me

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Canonical character death. Fili/Kili. Rated Teen mostly because I didn't feel comfortable rating in Gen. 
> 
> A birthday gift to myself. Dwarven vampires written in such a way that it makes sense. With a side of Durincest because really, I'm writing dwarven vampires, and if I'm going that far, I might as well go all the way and write what I want.
> 
> Edited on 2/6/2016 to fix minor typos, missing words (damn, I am bad for that), and a few awkward sentences.

When Kili woke up, it was pitch black. He couldn't see anything. His lungs seemed to struggle to take in air, and his chest ached with a bone deep pain. The only thing that kept him from panicking was the comforting feel of stone pressing in all around. It cradled him, surrounded him, and protected him.

He felt tired. Bone weary. Kili tried to remember the last thing that had happened, but everything was a jumbled muddle. His thoughts tripped over themselves, making him feel slow and stupid.

Tired. But there were clothes on him, keeping him warm, and stone around him. He could sleep a little more. Maybe then things would make more sense.

It was the last thought Kili had before he fell back to sleep.

***

The second time Kili awoke, he was a little less tired and his thoughts were a little more coherent. Where was he? He couldn't see anything in the dark, but he could feel. Kili was dressed in what felt like fine clothing and finer armor. His fingers found heavy wool lined in fur, rich silk with raised embroidery, and well tooled leather. The buttons were smooth and cool under his touch. Metal and set with tiny gemstones. This was laid over and under heavy chainmail, the links small and uniform under his fingers.

There were several blankets beneath him, a bow and arrows beside him on his right. His hunting knife was strapped to his left. There was stone around him on all sides, which he thought he remembered from last time. The ache in his chest had lessened to a small twinge.

Where was he? Kili tried to remember anything, but all he could bring to mind was that he'd woken once before. Why were his thoughts so hard to hold onto?

Kili's fingers moved upward. There were braids in his hair, which meant he'd been still for some time, because otherwise they would have fallen out. He traced their shape in the darkness, knowing the patterns even without sight. This one for the line of Durin. This one for bravery in battle. And this one...

Oh. A death braid. He had died.

Memory came back swift and fierce, and for a few moments Kili wished he could forget again. He'd died at Ravenhill, killed by Azog while Tauriel watched. Kili remembered now, though he wished he didn't. Because he was not the first to fall to Azog's blade. Fili had died before him, yelling at them to run, to save themselves 

"Fee?" Kili whispered in the dark. If he was dead, then stone around him was his sarcophagus. The clothes he wore were his burial clothes. 

 

Dead, but now awake. Kili tried to think about what he knew. Truth be told, he couldn't remember much. Fili had always been much better at remembering the lessons and knowledge that came from being both dwarves and heirs to the kingdom of Erebor. But Kili thought that he'd been granted a second life, a gift from Mahal given to Durin the Deathless and passed down the line.

Kili remembered that they had had multiple conversations about the gift of their line. The details were vague, but slowly, the main points came back to him. Both his mother and Thorin had explained that because they were descended directly from Durin, that there was a chance any of them could have a second life. Durin had been the first to rise again after death. His descendants could as well, though not all of them did so. Frerin, dead before Kili had been born, had never risen, and Thror never got the chance because of how he'd died.

The gift was not without drawbacks and conditions, though. Kili couldn't remember all of them, but he knew he had to leave his stone sarcophagus on his own power. To not do so was to show he was too weak for the honor of a second life. Besides, the dwarves would have put Fili in his own sarcophagus. If he wanted to see his brother, Kili needed to get out of his own and over to Fili's.

With that in mind, Kili put both hands against the stone above him, and pushed. The sound of stone grating against stone was overwhelmingly loud. So loud that Kili had to stop what he was doing, and wait for his ears to recover. 

More sensitive hearing. That was definitely due to his second life. Kili's ears had never been like that before. He was sure of that.

Anything else? Kili tried to remember anything, but nothing came. Nothing at all. He could hear Azog's boasts, could see Fili fall, and felt the screaming pain in his chest like someone had ripped out his heart. The smell of blood. The screams of battle. Tauriel pleading with him. Pain like he had never felt before in his chest, and then coldness seeping through his veins.

After that, his thoughts became muddled. Kili didn't know it if was because he couldn't remember, or if it was an after effect of rising to live again.

Freedom first. Everything else could wait. Kili pushed the lid again, inching it open, and doing his best to ignore the too loud sound. His hand scrabbled at side, trying to tell in the darkness if he'd opened the lid. No. It didn't feel like it. 

Even though it made his muscles shake from the effort, Kili continued to push. The lid would move, he'd feel along the edge, and then continue. It seemed to take forever

Finally, his nails caught on the edge. With some effort, Kili got his fingers into the hole by using his other hand to hold the lid open. Then he managed to mash his fingers between the lid and the edge of the sarcophagus. Kili let out a stream of words that would have caused his mother to box his ears had she heard. Cursing like a miner. Bofur would be proud.

Still, he kept at it despite the pain in his fingers. Eventually, he had a hole wide enough to look through. Only to see more darkness. Had he really expected anything different?

Kili thumped his head back against the blankets beneath him. "That was useful," he said. His voice was rough, rusty sound. He found himself swallowing to try and clear his throat, but there was no moisture.

All the energy drained out of him. His arms shook, his lungs hurt, and he was tired. Kili tried to fight the urge to sleep this time – he needed to get out and he needed to find Fili – but it was no use. Sleep took him again.

***

When Kili woke for the third time, he decided he was either going to get out of his sarcophagus or die trying. Which was a terrible thought given the situation. Really. He was almost ashamed at how bad that was.

His fingers caught the edge of the stone lid where he'd opened it before, hooked around it, and he pulled. The sound was just as loud and annoying as before. Inch by inch the lid moved. Kili stopped when his arms began to shake again. There was still no light, and he couldn't see anything in total darkness. Instead, Kili used his fingers.

The opening was just barely big enough for him to squirm through. Kili thought about pushing the lid onto the floor, but didn't want to crack the stone. Thorin had often talked about the royal crypt with the likenesses of the line of Durin carved into stone. It seemed a shame to waste someone's hard work.

Had someone carved an effigy of him? Or had there been no time? Kili thought that maybe the dwarves in Erebor had more important things to do than carve his likeness into stone. Then again, he'd been second in line to the throne of Erebor. Maybe they had. 

Who had survived? Was the Company okay? Intact? Some dwarves had obviously made it through the battle, because he'd been washed and dressed, his hair braided, and placed into a stone sarcophagus. Only dwarves would know the burial rites. Which seemed to indicate they'd won or at least that Erebor still stood.

Had their uncle made it through the battle? Would Thorin be the one to greet him once Kili got out of this cursed stone box? Family supported those who rose for a second life. It wasn't so much a memory for Kili, as a fact. Fili might be in a sarcophagus of his own, but the others of the line of Durin would help him through this.

Not for the first time, Kili wished he'd paid more attention. Or had asked more questions. It had all seemed irrelevant at the time. He hadn't planned on dying any time soon. 

Or maybe he had learned more and just couldn't remember. Why couldn't he remember? Things were still fuzzy in his mind, disjointed and out of order. Like a book whose pages had been torn out and then been put back in the wrong order or left out altogether.

His uncle would be able to tell him anything he'd forgotten or hadn't been told. Kili was sure of that if nothing else. 

It took more effort than it should, but Kili managed to wiggle through the hole and get himself out. He fell in a heap onto the floor. Any sort of grace he had had deserted him, and Kili was suddenly grateful for the darkness, and lack of audience.

Kili got himself into a sitting position, leaning again his sarcophagus. He whistled sharply, once, and listened to the echoes that came back. It was a trick Nori had taught him. Something done by dwarves when they couldn't rely on sight alone, in the darkness beneath the ground. The space was large and – again with the terrible jokes – deathly quiet. There was no answering response.

What should he do? Kili tilted his head back, and let it rest against the stone. Try to find the door? Wait for others? He knew that dwarves visited the dead at certain times of the year for at least three years after their death. Fili had told him as much when they were younger, when Kili has asked about their father.

Someone would come eventually. He would wait. 

***

One moment he was asleep. The next, Kili was awake. He blinked, confused for a moment at finding himself resting on the stone floor. Had he fallen asleep while sitting? Kili got to his feet, slowly, expecting stiffness. There was none.

There was a sound. Kili looked in the direction, but of course, all he saw was darkness. Then he heard a door swing open on well-oiled dwarven hinges, and light came spilling into the room. It made Kili's eye water despite being so faint. 

For the first time, he could see his surroundings. The floor was black and white marble inset with smaller sardonyx diamonds to form a repeating geometric pattern. All around him stood the pale sarcophagi of the line of Durin since the founding of Erebor, each one topped with an effigy in rest. Carved pillars stretched to the ceiling, and murals of inset stone showing the most famous exploits of the dwarves of Erebor

But none of that could hold his attention for long. It was the heartbeats – three of them – that finally made everything snap into focus. Made him feel alive. Kili was moving before he even realized what he was doing. He slid into the dark shadows, before circling around the three dwarves. Flanking them.

Did he know them? Kili looked at the three dwarves and thought that he did know them, but he could not bring up names to match the face illuminated by lantern light. He was absolutely sure he should know their names. The holes in Kili's memory bothered him, and it was the only reason he didn't immediately try to get closer as the three made their way further into the crypt.

The oldest dwarf's hair was pure white, his nose large, and his bearing regal. His beard was bifurcated at the end. There were memories – a kind word, stories around a campfire, a hand on his shoulder – but still no name. Kili knew this dwarf though. He was sure of it.

Beside the older dwarf was a large dwarf with a bald head and a massive beard. Kili knew that one too. He'd been friends with his uncle, the two of them fighting, drinking, and laughing together. His name escaped Kili, but he knew that this dwarf was a fighter. He had two axes across his back, but was missing his knuckle-dusters.

The third dwarf was younger, more finely wrought, than the other two. His hair and beard were light brown with a hint of red, decorated with braids. He wore no armor, only wool and knitted pieces. In his hands, he carried a thick book bound in leather, a small container of ink, and a dip pen crafted of metal.

Easy. Or if not easy, then at least not as hard as the other two. Kili felt memories surface about this dwarf as well, but not as many and not as deep as the others. He continued to keep to the shadows as they moved farther into the royal crypt.

"It's probably too early for any of them to rise, if they are going to," the older dwarf said. He was the one holding the lantern. "The scrolls only record a handful of the line of Durin rising before the third year has begun. Sometimes there are signs of them stirring this early. Subtle ones. Like the lids being displaced. We'll have to look closely to notice."

They drew closer to the center of the crypt. Kili watched them stop by his sarcophagus first. The smallest dwarf gasped at the open lid.

"That's a pretty subtle sign all right," the largest dwarf said dryly. The older dwarf sent him a look. "Looks like Kili is up."

Kili felt a surge of warmth and pride. He'd been right. He did know these dwarves, and they knew who he was. Instinct drove Kili to get closer, though he remained outside the light of the lantern.

"But where is he?" the youngest dwarf asked. They all looked around, but Kili ducked behind one of the pillars just in time. Distraction. He needed a distraction to get closer. 

There was a bit of metal on the floor, the remains of a candelabra that had broken and been missed. As carefully as he could, Kili picked it up. It still made a sound, but none of the other three dwarves noticed.

He threw the piece of metal as hard as he could. It sailed through the air, unnoticed, until it clattered against stone on the far side of the room. All three dwarves turned towards the sound. That's when Kili moved.

A red haze descended across his vision, narrowing everything down to the smallest dwarf. Everything but Kili seemed to slow down. He grabbed the smaller dwarf from behind, intent on pulling him back into the darkness. Where he could hold him down and feed at his leisure. 

Victory sang through his veins as Kili's fingers closed around soft wool. The smallest dwarf cried out. It made something dark and red flare inside Kili's head. He snarled, baring his teeth.

The war hammer seemed to come from nowhere, slamming into his arm, and breaking bones in the process. Kili was thrown to the floor. He made a sound that was more animalistic that dwarven. The pain had its intended effect though, and the red haze lifted. By Mahal, what had come over him? 

His arm itched and burned as bone tried to knit together. It was not a pleasant sensation. Kili forced himself to his feet, his now useless arm hanging by his side. He had barely taken a step when he felt strong arms wrap around him, pinning his own arms in place. It hurt where his arm was broken. "Are you back with us lad?"

He knew that voice. "Dwalin," Kili said. Balin hurried over, beard and hair pale in the lantern light. Kili felt a hundred memories pour into his head at once. It made his voice a little shaky when he spoke. "Your war hammer packs a punch."

"Wasn't mine," Dwalin said. Kili blinked and looked over. The dwarf without armor and the implements of a scribe was the one holding the war hammer. Ori. His name was Ori. They had traveled together as part of the Company for over nearly a year on the quest to reclaim Erebor.

Kili felt sick. What had come over him? How could he have forgotten Dwalin? Or Balin? Or even Ori? Ori looked pale, but didn't lower his weapon when Kili looked at him. He gave Ori a crooked smile.

"That's quite an upgrade from your slingshot," Kili said. It was the right thing to say, because Ori relaxed and gave him a tentative smile. Kili flexed his fingers, and then gritted his teeth as bone move against bone. It felt strange to feel it healing. Another benefit from his second life, though he wished it would go a bit faster. "I think... I think I'm okay now, Dwalin."

But the arms around him didn't loosen. Balin was right in front of him.

"You need to feed before we can let you loose," Balin said. "You've just woken and are dangerous, even if you think you're not. You went after Ori."

"How... I don't know how to feed," Kili said, using the same wording that Balin had. He didn't think food in the normal sense what was the older dwarf was referring to. He had gone after Ori, his instincts having decided that he was the weakest of the three and the easiest to take. If he'd been thinking clearly, he would have known better. 

"You have the teeth for it. You just need to bite and instinct will do the rest. We'll pull you off if you try to take too much." 

Oh that sounded comforting. Balin offered him a wrist, but Kili balked, jerking back against Dwalin. Every instinct inside him refused to consider Balin as an option.

Luckily, Balin didn't take offense. "Not me then. Ori, I wouldn't normally ask this of you, but Kili needs..."

"I'll do it," Dwalin said before Balin could finish. That got him a raised eyebrow. Kili tried to twist around to see the look on Dwalin's face, but Dwalin just held him tighter. 

"Give him your neck. He might lunge, and I don't want him to damage the tendons in your wrist if he does," Balin said.

"But it's perfectly fine for him to have damaged your tendons," Dwalin grumbled.

It was just as well that Balin had warned him, because as soon as Dwalin tilted his head to one side, Kili lunged. The whiskers of Dwalin's beard scratched his skin, but Kili ignored them. His teeth came down hard, breaking skin. Dwalin grunted. Kili sucked, pulling blood into his mouth. The first taste was like iron and fire, racing through his veins with heat Kili hadn't even realized he'd been missing. He made a small noise and pulled another mouthful.

Dwalin was absolutely still and tense against him. Kili could sense his pain. That wasn't right. He didn't want to hurt Dwalin. Balin had said his instincts would guide him, so when Kili felt the urge to make sure Dwalin wasn't in pain, he went with it.

He pictured sitting in front of a fire, warm and comfortable, listening to songs and enjoying the night. Kili held the image in his mind, and then pushed it out. Dwalin sighed, the tension easing out of him. 

Ori made some sort of noise, but Kili ignored him. This seemed comfortable. Right. He pushed more of those feelings towards Dwalin as he fed. Something settled inside him. Two more mouthfuls, and then Kili was done.

His teeth retracted. Kili felt flushed and warm, power thrumming through him. Kili's thoughts were clearer, and slowly, the rest of his memories were trickling back. The tingling in his arm intensified, until suddenly, it was healed. He licked at the wounds on Dwalin's neck until they closed.

"Enough of that," Dwalin said. Kili obediently stepped back, and Dwalin let him. "Don't know what you did half way through. It was strange."

"I realized I was hurting you," Kili said. "I feel... I feel better. Is Fili..." 

"You are the first to wake," Balin said. "Fili and Thorin are still asleep."

"Uncle didn't make it," Kili said. He felt a wave of sorrow at the thought. They had journeyed and fought, and Thorin would never rule. Those in their second life were forbidden from ruling, though they were highly sought after advisors. "How did he die?"

"Defeating Azog," Ori said. He moved to stand next to Balin, comfortable now that Kili seemed to be less intent on hunting him. "We weren't expecting any of you to be awake yet. It's not even been a year and a half since you... since your first death. The histories say that most begin their second life after two years of sleep."

"I'm an overachiever," Kili said. Dwalin snorted behind him. Kili did not roll his eyes.

"Come on, Kili. Let's get you changed and reintroduce you to everyone," Balin said. "Dain wanted to come, but he was meeting with Bard about the reconstruction of Dale."

All the levity left Kili. He was already shaking his head. "No. I'll wait for Fili here."

"Don't be an idiot," Dwalin said. "There's no reason for you to stay here. There are rooms near-by. We've cleaned out and repaired most of them already. "

"I'm not going," Kili said. Then, when it looked like the three dwarves would continue to argue.  
"I plan on waiting here."

"This is no place for..." Balin started. Then he sighed at the look at Kili's face. The stubbornness of the line of Durin was legendary. "Do you really think it appropriate for you to sleep in the royal crypt?"

"We could bring in a bed," Ori said. "Or maybe a pallet."

"I want to be here when he wakes up," Kili said. When. Not if. Kili had died rather than live in a world without his brother. He would do it again if he had to. And he was not leaving this room, until Fili walked out of it beside him.

"Fine. On one condition. You cannot spend all your time in here," Balin said. "It will be good for the others to see you have been granted a second life. Good for the dwarves of Erebor."

Kili thought about it for only a second. "Agreed."

***

Kili was aware of every day that passed. He slept during the daylight hours, dragged under whether he wanted to go or not, and was wake during the night. Dwarves sometimes lost track of the hours when underground, but Kili never did. He couldn't. His body was attuned to the outside world whether he wanted it to be or not.

The first thing Balin did after agreeing that Kili could stay in the royal crypt was have a change of clothing and a small tub brought there. Which Kili found amusing. Sleeping in the royal crypt was too much, but having a bath there was for some reason just fine.

He'd been grateful for the change of clothing though. Kili didn't know if it was because Balin thought Kili was uncomfortable in the funeral clothes (he was, because they were heavy and ornate and made it difficult to move) or because the other dwarves were uncomfortable with seeing him in his funeral clothes. He'd been washed before his funeral, so in theory, he shouldn't have gotten all that dirty. In reality, Kili felt much cleaner after the bath. The braids immediately fell out of his hair, but Kili was use to that. Balin had produced his silver hair clip without a word when he saw Kili's hair afterwards.

The entire Company came to see him a few days later, greeting him with backslaps and hugs. Kili returned them gratefully. No one mentioned the other two members of their company that were even now sleeping in their stone beds. 

He found out that Bilbo had returned to his Shire before the funeral. Kili didn't know what to make of that. On one hand, he had thought that Bilbo and his uncle had been close. Closer, certainly, than the rest of the Company had grown over the year they'd spent together. Why would he leave without even saying good-bye?

On the other hand, Kili could understand. He remembered watching the one he loved die. Kili had thrown himself at Azog rather than live without his brother. At least Bilbo had lived, and Kili found himself hoping that their hobbit could find peace back in his Shire. The second life of dwarves was a closely guarded secret, and even if Thorin rose, the hobbit would likely never know.

Traditionally, it was only family that would help those going through their second life. Because he was of the line of Durin, that meant those who were also descended should be helping him. Teaching him. The problem was Kili found himself only wanting to feed off of five dwarves: Dwalin, Ori, Nori, Bofur, and Bifur. Dwalin was the only one who was from the official line of Durin. Even as large a dwarf as he was, he couldn't support Kili's need for blood alone. Unofficially, the Ri brothers were descended from Durin even if they were not recognized as such, but there was no explaining the two Ur brothers. 

Several other dwarves not from the Company, but of the line of Durin offered to provide blood for Kili. The line of Durin had many branches, and the dwarves were impressed not only by Kili's deeds, but by the fact he had received Mahal's blessing. Most of them felt it was not only their duty, but an honor to help him in his second life.

There were some that appealed to him, but Kili rejected them anyway. It felt wrong somehow. Where were these dwarves when his uncle had asked for volunteers to retake Erebor? Why offer to help him now, when they could have done so much more had they only acted sooner?

Maybe it made him petty, but Kili found he had no desire to help them ease their shame or guilt. Let them feel it. The direct line of Durin had all died for Erebor, and Kili found he wanted to give the honor of helping him in his second life only to the Company.

Which again, limited him to taking blood only from Dwalin. Balin and Ori had gone through the scrolls in the library of Erebor, only to discover that this was not the first or only time someone entering their second life was extremely picky. It had obviously frustrated the dwarves then as much as it frustrated them now.

"I think of the Company as family," Kili said. "We all think of each other as family. Does it matter who anyone is descended from?"

Strangely enough, the argument had worked. Kili suspected it was mostly because there was no other solution. So the five members of the Company took up a rotation, feeding him every two or three days.

True to his word, Kili spent at least a few hours each day outside the royal crypt. Dain was the first dwarf he'd visited. Kili had not had time to greet his cousin properly on the battlefield, and he was glad for the chance to speak with him now. Thorin and his mother had always talked fondly of Dain, even when Thorin had complained about how little he could help them. 

"I never wanted the throne," Dain said as they sat side by side in the royal chambers. Dain was eating a light supper, while Kili drank some ale. Thank goodness he could still drink ale. Kili wasn't sure it would be worth having a second life if he couldn't. "I'd give it back to Thorin if I could."

Dwarves in their second life could not rule. It was one of the oldest rules they had, set down by Durin himself when he handed over his crown to his son. Fili, when he woke, would no longer be heir to Erebor and Kili was not in line for the throne any longer.

"Uncle would have been happy to see you as King Under the Mountain," Kili said. "There is no other dwarf he would rather hold the crown outside of us. When he wakes, he'll tell you the same."

Dain smiled, big and easy. "You're not at all like the boy who put frogs in my blanket when I came to visit."

Kili laughed. He had forgotten that incident. "Fili was the one who did that. I just took the blame because we always got off easy with visitors when I looked like I was going to cry."

The surprised laughter from Dain made Kili grin. "You know your mother was on to you. Dis swore it was your bother who did it, and I didn't believe her," Dain said. Then he sobered. "You have grown wise. Time has tempered you into a fine dwarf."

It was high praise from any dwarf. Kili covered his embarrassment the only way he knew how. "I'm not sure about time," Kili said. "But death certainly has changed my outlook."

"But death has not cured your awful sense of humor, I see." Dain gave Kili a friendly shove and Kili somehow managed to not slop the rest of his ale all over himself. "Don't let the rest of your Company hear you say that. I don't want you traumatizing the heroes of Erebor any more than you already have."

"I won't, I won't!" Kili promised.

In between visits from friends and family, and from his own wandering around Erebor, Kili waited in the royal crypt alone. The Company brought him leather, bead blanks, wire, and tools, and a small wooden table that look like it had been made sometime during the First Age and then repaired every age since. It was ugly, but functional. Kili spent his time making small decorative items. 

He waited for his brother - and his Uncle - but mostly Fili if he were being honest as the days turned into weeks. Which turned into months. Spring slid into summer and then into fall. Festivals came and went. Winter approached, then started, and the second year since their first death began.

And still, no one else woke.

***

A week after the official start of winter, Kili woke just as the sun set. His bed was cool. What had gotten him up? Usually it took at least an hour after sunset before he was ready to face the night. 

Kili knuckled his eyes groggily, his thoughts scattered about. He heard voices. Most of the Company knew better than to wake him right at the end of the daylight after he'd hissed at Bombur and Bofur for doing just that. It was harder to think, harder to act like a dwarf in their first life, first thing after waking up.

"He may not be up." Kili recognized Dwalin's voice, but had not heard the other dwarf sound so cowed in years. "The sun has barely set. We can wait a few hours and try then. Dain would love to speak with you in the meantime."

"Dwalin, I have waited almost three years to see my son. I will not wait any longer."

"Mom!" Kili pushed the blankets off of himself, got out of bed, and raced towards the light. Never mind that he was only in his sleeping pants and was acting more like a dwarf of twenty. Dis was waiting for him with open arms. They both hugged too tightly, but it didn't matter. 

He should have expected the smack to the back of his head, but it took Kili by surprise. "Ow!" Kili rubbed at the spot she'd hit, and took his first real look at his mother.

She looked like she'd aged two decades in the years since he'd last seen her. There were new lines at the corner of her eyes, sadness in her eyes, and gray hairs at her temples and in her beard as well. Kili felt cold settle in his stomach. He had no doubt that he and Fili were the cause. Thorin too.

 

"I didn't send you to Erebor to die," Dis said sharply. Then she hugged him again. "I thank Mahal every day that he gave you a second life so I could have the chance to see you again. I only hope your Uncle is granted the blessing as well so I can yell at him for hours."

"Mom." Kili didn't know what to say when his mother got like this. Fili would have known, but Fili was still sleeping under stone. Instead, Kili asked, "When did you get here?" 

"Earlier today. I came by caravan from the Blue Mountains. I left as soon as I could once I got Balin's letter telling me you were in your second life."

Her clothes were travel stained, her hair simply braided. Had she even stopped to eat on her way through Erebor? Kili doubted it. He looked at Dwalin.

"Can you bring us something to eat?" Not that Kili would eat anything. "Maybe something to drink as well?"

"Something alcoholic," Dis said. Dwalin laughed at that, nodded once, and left mother and son to speak alone.

Then the rest of Dis's words penetrated. Kili did some mental math. "It's winter. Mom tell me you didn't cross the Misty Mountains in winter."

"It's barely winter. Anyway it was just ice and snow," Dis said. Kili shook his head. And his mother didn't believe she was anything like Thorin. "It wasn't like we encountered orcs or wargs."

"You heard about that?" Kili asked.

"Yes, I heard. There are songs everywhere. I'm glad Balin and Dain had enough sense to write and let me know what had happened before I found out about it from a song," Dis said. "But I'd like to hear it from you, if you will indulge your mother."

They took seats at Kili's work table. Kili started with the journey to the Shire and the first night they'd met Bilbo Baggins. Dwalin returned about the time he'd gotten to the part about Rivendell, bringing ale and a plate of sausages, potatoes, and pickled greens for Dis. He sat down at the table to expound at length what he thought about elven hospitality while Kili took a drink of ale.

Kili picked the narrative back up, with Dwalin adding comments as the journey continued. Dwalin made his excuses and left when they came to the Battle of the Five Armies. Kili didn't try to call him back. It was still a sore spot for Dwalin that he'd been unable to protect the line of Durin. 

Fili's death was the hardest part. Kili almost didn't make it through that part, the words sticking in his throat. He forced them out though. His mother deserved to know. His own death seemed almost anticlimactic in comparison.

"I don't know what happen to Thorin," Kili said. "I haven't asked really, and the rest of the Company doesn't like to talk about it. I know he killed Azog and died while doing it. Bilbo returned back home." Kili looked into his empty tankard. "It is not good ending for the story. At least not from my perspective."

"I thank you for telling me this. It does not do my heart good to hear, but I needed to know," Dis said when he was done talking. "But Kili... Fili would have wanted you to live. He wouldn't have wanted you to throw your life away like that."

There was a long moment of silence. His mother was right. Kili knew she was right. That didn't mean he wouldn't do what he had done again if he had to. "Mom, I don't want to live without him. I won't. If he doesn't rise, I'll go through my second death just so I can be with him in Mahal's halls." Kili paused, took his courage in both hands, "I love him."

Dis sucked in a long breath, and let it out as a low sigh. "I suspected as much." She laughed at the look on Kili's face. "Don't be so surprised. Your mother is no fool, and you two have been inseparable for years. I've suspected for the last few years that the only way I'd get grandchildren was if one of you found a wife that didn't mind sharing."

"Mom!" Kili had thought he was being subtle. He wondered if he could just sink through the floor. A wife that didn't mind sharing? His mother had thought about this?

He immediately thought of an elf with dark red hair and a quick mind. Would Tauriel have been willing to share? Had she known? It was a moot point now. Elves viewed those who rose again as evil. She would never look at him the way she had before, and the knowledge hurt.

Then Kili realized there would never be grandchildren for his mother. Neither he nor Fili would ever have children. He'd never thought about it before. It was a choice that Kili didn't realize he wanted until it was taken away.

He would never grow a beard. See the sun again. Be able to enjoy a feast. Go on a journey. 

"It's okay," Dis said seeing Kili's face as she stacked the dishes from her dinner together. "I try not to mourn over what might have been. It never does any good." Kili knew she was referring to the fall of Erebor. "You have a second life. Your brother will have one as well. You are not the only one who would not see you two parted. Mahal is not that cruel."

"I hope so," Kili said. He looked over to the stone sarcophagus, carved with the likeness of Fili. Only Fili had never been so still. So cold.

"And if not, I will give you my blessing to go after him," Dis said. Kili sucked in a breath. He felt his eyes sting, and forced back the tears. "I want you, above all else, to be happy."

"Thank you," he said. 

"But I swear, if you ever do something so stupid again, I will personally drag you back from Mahal's halls just so I can beat some sense into you."

"I love you too, Mom."

***

Winter was heading towards spring when Kili heard a sound in the royal crypt. It was the time of night that most dwarves would call morning, except the sun had not yet risen. Kili could feel the press of it growing. Soon he'd go to sleep whether he wanted to or not.

But first, the sound. It sounded like stone on stone, that particular grating sound that was embedded in Kili's brain. He immediately got up and went to the two sarcophagi that mattered. The stone was cool, the effigies carved into the lids blank and remote in their stares, and if either of the lids had moved, Kili couldn't tell.

Still, when sleep finally took Kili, he was smiling.

***

It was Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur that were visiting Kili tonight, sitting around his work table. Bifur was carving wood, Bofur was assembling a toy made of metal, and Bombur was shelling walnuts. Typical busy work while they all talked about the weather.

A week ago Dwalin had managed to convince Kili to leave the inside of Erebor and go outside for the first time since he'd risen to enjoy the increasingly warm weather. He didn't regret it. The moon had been half full in the sky, and Kili had looked up to see the millions of stars up above. Kili would never see the sun again. Which made him feel a little sad, but it was one of the prices dwarves paid for a second life. It wasn't like some of the dwarves left the mountain at all now that they'd reclaimed it. He was hardly the only one in Erebor who never saw the sun.

Thinking that the good weather would hold had been a mistake. According to Bombur, a chill wind had blown down from the Grey Mountains to the north starting three days ago. Then the clouds had rolled in. Now there was at least an inch of snow back on the ground.

"Are you really surprised? It won't officially be spring until next week," Kili said. "Dori and Balin both remember times that winter lasted well into spring in Erebor. It's not like in the Blue Mountains. Those are so close to the ocean you don't get winters like you do here."

"But I was so hopeful," Bombur said. "Supplies are getting low. Nothing like the first year we were here, but we could all do with something fresh. Something that hasn't spent the last several months covered in salt or withered at the bottom of a barrel."

"Even Ori is wondering when we'll see anything green on the table," Bofur said. "And he'll eat it too, as long as it's not the only thing on the table." They all laughed. 

Kili felt warm and pleasantly full. Bifur had fed him earlier, crooning an old nursery rhyme while he did. Bifur always sang songs to Kili, like he was a small dwarfling that needed to be comforted. He had wanted to ask about it, but Bofur had shook his head, and Kili had swallowed the question back unasked. It was the least he could do. Everyone had sorrows that were not meant to be shared.

"So I heard Heli commissioned you to do a book cover in leather the other week," Bofur said, neatly changing the subject.

"Yes. She asked for in time for the spring equinox. It shouldn't be too hard. Just a carving of a map on the cover showing the route between the Blue Mountains and Erebor. She's going to do the book binding and setting of pages," Kili said. Then he grinned, because at heart, dwarves were worse than hobbits when it came to gossip. "I asked who it was for, and she turned the most interesting shade of red. Never did get an answer."

"For Badin," Bifur replied in Khuzdul. He gestured with his knife when he spoke. "Fifty copper coins on a wedding before next spring."

"Really? Betting on a short courtship then," Bombur said. "It can't happen soon enough as far as I'm concerned. Badin works in the kitchens with me, and maybe now his mind will actually be on cooking instead of..."

They all jumped when one of the stone lids from a sarcophagus hit the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. Kili was on his feet before the others, sending his chair skittering back behind him. He was watching the darkness. The others were only a bit slower getting to their feet.

"Go get Dwalin or Gloin," Kili said. There were only two dwarves it could be. He wasn't sure if it was Thorin or Fili who had risen, but he knew that they'd be confused. Disoriented. And hungry. In other words, just like him when he woke, only possibly more dangerous. "Dori or even my mother if you can't find them. Hurry."

Bombur was already hurrying out the door, but Bofur and Bifur were still there. Kili could hear their heartbeats as he brought his senses into focus. "This could get dangerous. I went after Ori when I first woke. Balin said sometimes, when dwarves die in battle and come back, they think they're still in the battle."

"We let you face danger alone once before. We're not going to do it again," Bofur said. Bifur grunted and signed his agreement. Kili couldn't help but remember Dain's words months ago about having traumatized the heroes of Erebor. "We know the risks."

Still, Kili put himself between the two dwarves and whichever one of his relatives walked in the darkness. He could hear them moving, whisper soft steps against the stone. Like a fool he'd left his sword on the other side of the room, though Kili still had his hunting knife by his side as a weapon of last resort.

The sound of a weapon being drawn was loud in the silence. Now was it Orcist or Fili's twin blades? Because of course both of them had been buried with their weapons. That was dwarven custom when there were no heirs left to inherit them.

Kili tracked the movement in the dark by sound, shifting around to keep himself between Bofur and Bifur. He wished that Bofur had his mattock and Bifur his boar spear, instead of the knives he knew both carried. The movement stopped.

The silence was deafening.

"Fili?" Kili said softly. He couldn't sense a heartbeat, but Balin had warned him that that wouldn't be the case with them unless they'd just fed. "Thorin?"

The attack came without warning. Kili saw movement, heading towards Bifur, and pushed himself to move that much faster. Bofur was yelling. He dodged the sword swinging at him with a mixture of luck and instinct, and it was only when Kili dodged the second sword that realized who he was fighting.

"Fee!" he yelled. "Fili stop!"

His brother didn't stop, but he did hesitate. Then Bofur made some noise, or Bifur moved, and Fili's attention was once more focused on the two dwarves. Fili tried to go past Kili, but Kili blocked him. His brother snarled, showing sharpened fangs. Kili snarled right back, only backing up when Fili took another swing at him.

Kili was lucky in that he knew Fili's fighting style, that he'd just fed, and that the funeral clothes his brother wore were designed to look pretty, but not for ease of movement. Otherwise, he would have had a sword in him already. 

They moved like they did during fighting practice, forward and back. There was no recognition in Fili's eyes, but he also didn't press as hard as he could either. Kili remembered his own confusion. Did his brother hesitate or was that his own imagination? Did Fili recognize Kili even if he didn't quite remember him?

It didn't really matter. Kili knew he needed to end the fight, and soon. Fili was desperate to feed, and armed. Sooner or later, he was going to connect or get lucky and get around Kili.

There was one move that always worked on his brother in training but to do it, Kili would have to get close. Which was not something he cared to try while Fili had both his swords. Just as he had the thought, Bofur threw a chair, and Fili stumbled when it hit him, knocking the sword from his grasp. Bifur cheered, then quickly dodged back behind Kili when Fili lunged forward.

It was the distraction Kili needed. He dropped low, and swept Fili's feet out from under him. His brother gave a shout, and then Kili was pinning him to the floor. He had to beat Fili's hand against the floor to get him to let go of the other sword. It was a lesson ingrained into them through long hours of practice and training. Never let go of your weapon.

Fili's knuckles were bloody, and his fingers probably broken, but finally Fili's fingers loosened their grip. His brother was bucking and twisting beneath him. He flipped them somehow so that now Kili was pinned beneath him. The only option left to Kili was to wrap his around his brother and hold on. At least that prevented Fili from going after one of his knives.

"Go! He'll keep coming as long as he can see you," Kili yelled at Bofur and Bifur. Fili tried to bite him, but Kili used his weight to keep his brother on the floor. "Wait in the hall for the others."

"Yell if you need help," Bofur said. "We'll be outside."

Kili wanted to respond, but Fili was trying to get away. Some of his hair had come loose, and it was in his eyes. Fili's braids were a mess, and his eyes continued to look into the darkness where Bofur and Bifur had gone. He could hear the door shut.

"Fee. Fili. It's me. It's Kili. Come on, Fili, I need you to stop fighting," Kili said. He kept up the string of words, and held as tight as he could as Fili continued to struggle. "Fili, you're safe. You are okay. Fili, please. Fee."

"Kee?" It was the most beautiful thing Kili has heard, because if Fili recognized him, it meant he hadn't gone mad. Some of those who woke for their second life did. "Kili? How? I died."

"I know you did. I saw it." Kili drew in a shuddering breath. He couldn't see Fili's face, but he tightened his grip as a way to offer reassurance. 

"This does not look like the halls of Mahal," Fili said dryly, which startled a laugh out of Kili.

"Second life," Kili replied. Fili sucked in a breath, and thanked Mahal with his next words. Kili hesitated wondering how much Fili remembered. "My second life as well."

"Oh. Kili..."

"You need to feed," Kili said, cutting off the regrets before Fili could give them voice. He loosened his hold. "Before the others get back. You tried go after Bofur and Bifur."

"I... did?" Kili could hear the confusion in his brother's voice. He shifted his weight back, sitting back on his knees before pulling Fili up. His brother still looked dazed, soft around the edges. It made him want to protect Fili. "I don't remember. They were here? I didn't mean... I found my swords, and the last thing I remembered was the battle."

"Don't worry. I tried to go after Ori when I first woke. He hit me with a war hammer," Kili replied. Fili laughed, his eyes crinkling up around the corners. Kili kept one hand on him just in case he decided to move.

"Good for him."

Kili began undo the hooks holding his jacket together. Fili shifted, turning towards Kili, until they were looking at each other. It was a simple matter for Kili to press his forehead against his brother's, and pull him closer. 

"What are you doing?" Fili asked when Kili opened his shirt, exposing his neck and collar bone. He tugged Fili forward. One hand cupped the back of Fili's head, pushing him towards his neck.

"You need to feed. Just bite. Your instincts will do the rest," Kili said, parroting back Balin's words from his own rising. "I can feed again. It's okay."

"I don't..." Despite the protest, Fili was already nosing at Kili's exposed neck. His breath was warm and cool at the same time. "Nothing make sense."

"It will," Kili replied. "Trust me, Fee. It will be okay."

The first prick of teeth against his neck was sharp and painful, and Kili had to tamp down the instinct that urged him to jerk back. That was a good way to get his throat ripped out. Fili pulled the blood out of him. It burned. He must have made some sort of noise of protest, because Fili tried to pull back.

"No, keep feeding," Kili said. He stroked Fili's hair, pressing his head against his neck. Kili tried to send feelings of acceptance at his brother. Affection. Love. Encouragement. It wasn't that hard, despite the pain.

All of sudden, Fili made a small noise. Kili gasped at the sudden flood of emotion. Hunger. Affection. Exasperation. Love. Anger. Regret. Sorrow. Love. Remorse. Love. They tangled together into a mess of feelings that made Kili want to hug his brother, and sob into his shoulder at the same time.

Fili licked at the wounds when he was done, much in the same way Kili did when he fed. It felt warm and wet. He shivered. When Fili pulled back, there was blood on his lips, bright red in the lantern light. Kili found himself leaning forward, just slightly, without realizing it. He'd never kissed his brother before. What would it taste like?"

"Kili! Are you okay?" Bofur yelled from doorway. "If you don't respond, we're coming in." It served to break the tension. Both of them jerked back. Fili gave a small laugh, and Kili grinned sheepishly.

"We're fine!" Kili yelled back. He went to get to his feet, and promptly sat back down when the world spun around him. Fili caught his elbow. "I'm fine. Stood up too fast."

"Uh-huh," Fili agreed. He got to his feet more slowly than Kili had. Fili could hear the others entering the crypt, and he offered a hand to his brother. Kili took his hand, stood, and managed to stay standing this time.

"You weren't supposed to die," Fili said softly.

"Neither were you. You should know when you enter Mahal's halls, I will be right behind you," Kili said. Fili looked like he wanted to argue. "You'd be the same way if I died."

"So do me a favor. Don't die."

"I won't if you won't," Kili replied.

Bofur and Bifur came in, closely followed by Bombur and Gloin. Gloin's voice rang out in the crypt, seeming too loud for the quiet, solemn space. "Dwalin in on guard duty while Dis tries to keep Dain from telling the blacksmith's guild where they can put their anvils. I see you couldn't wait for one of us to show up," Gloin said as soon as he saw the red on Fili's lips. Fili looked abashed. "Don't worry about it. As long as you've fed and are with us. Glad to see you up. Kili has been driving us crazy."

"Not too much," Kili protested. 

"If you say so," Gloin said. He said nothing about the drying blood on Fili's knuckles from where Kili had smashed them against the floor. "I take it you'll be wanting a bath and a change of clothes."

"Yes, thank you," Fili said. Then the rest of Gloin's words penetrated. "Dain? But what about Uncle..."

"Sleeps under stone still," Gloin said. There was sadness in his eyes. "He avenged you in the end, but your deaths broke him."

Fili closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His words held only the faintest tremor when he spoke. "Did anybody listen to me when I told them to run?"

"Later," Kili said as he took Fili's hand. "You can regret later. Mom is here. I am here. You are here. Thorin will rise. Isn't that enough?"

"Later," Fili agrees. He pushed through the sadness. "I believe I was promised a bath?" Gloin clapped him on the shoulder, and Bofur and Bifur smiled.

With that Fili and Kili walked out of the royal crypt together, hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing started because I felt bad for writing fics where I brought Thorin back in various ways, and left his nephews dead. This was my sort-of apology for that. So what happens? I finish this long before I finish any of the fics where I bring Thorin back. Because my muse is awesome like that.
> 
> Also, I love writing for movies I haven't seen based on a book I haven't read in over 20 years. Any characterization problems are probably due to that.


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